


The Arrangement

by carolxdanvers



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, The Arrangement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolxdanvers/pseuds/carolxdanvers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink-meme prompt based on http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kwwrcjpfIb1qzrya2o1_500.gif<br/>Before the Arrangement, before the partnership that it formed, there was a demon and an angel. And each of them needed a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Arrangement

It first began on a Tuesday, at about 11 in the morning. The angel Aziraphale was at their usual meeting place on the Mount of Ephraim, frowning at a fig tree so ferociously that Crawly was almost sorry for the fruit. 

“Trouble in Paradise, angel?” he asked with a grin, folding his wings against his back and standing above the pouting Principality. 

“It’s nothing, my boy, really. God’s grace has prevailed, and all are forgiven who seek it.” 

It took everything Crawly had in him not to burst into laughter at the bitterness in the angel’s voice. Instead he furrowed his brow in a show of concern and seated himself on a moss-covered stone that seemed far more armchair-shaped than it should have been, given that armchairs didn’t exist. Cupping his chin in his palm, he gave a soft tut-tut and turned yellow eyes awash with concern on his companion.

“You seem strangely upset by the Father’s all-encompassing love and grace and so on and so forth. Isn’t forgiveness sort of the entire point of you?” 

And then he had to lean back, because the words had hardly left his mouth before Aziraphale turned and leaned over so quickly that their heads nearly knocked against one another.

“Forgiveness is fine if it is warranted, but there are those who play the system, and they go unpunished! And I cannot act, because it would be…” Here he appeared distinctly uncomfortable. His mouth clamped shut and he paled a bit. Crawly grinned.

“It would be an act of selfishness. You are not an angel of vengeance, Aziraphale. You are a principality. It isn’t your place to dole out punishments. To disobey orders and act selfishly is an act of rebellion.” 

“I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you, which is why I am not doing anything of the sort!” the angel snapped, crossing his arms and glaring even more intensely at the fig tree. 

“I have a similar problem. There’s a man— a very good man, mind you— that toils endlessly without any sort of reward, goes unrecognized by his master. I want to help the poor bastard, but—”

“You most certainly do not!” Aziraphale interrupted. “I wasn’t created yesterday, you old serpent. This isn’t about the goodness of your heart, not one bit. What’s the real story?”

Crawly had the decency to look sheepish.

“He’s got a brother who hates him. Any time this man gets recognition or good fortune, his brother suffers, and it’s blessed interesting to watch his brother suffer. One of those who has a little vein right here,” he tapped his forehead, “that pops out every time he gets angry.” Also, the brother was big news at the temple. If Crawly could put just enough pressure on him, the man would make lives miserable for the whole village.

Aziraphale frowned, but this time it was in thought. “But you can’t perform good deeds without attracting attention.” 

“Precisely. Now you see where I’m going?” 

The angel stood abruptly, clapping a hand on Crawly’s shoulder and pulling him to a cliff, pointing down at one of the houses. “The man in question lives there. You are not to do him great harm, do you understand? Irritate him, frustrate him perhaps, but none of your nasty wiles or cruel tricks, dear boy. Are we clear?” 

“Perfectly,” Crawly said with a bit of a hiss, and turned to point to the fields not far off. “The man gleaning in the field. You know, angel, this isn’t a bad trade.” 

“Not another word,” Aziraphale muttered, already second-guessing himself. And with the sound of beating wings, he flew off. Crawly chuckled, and called after him—

“I’m only saying, if this works, we could come to some kind of an arrangement!”


End file.
